Saltlick
by oldyeller
Summary: Gunmax comes home dirty with street salt. Duke deems his bathing methods inadequate for removing the salt and helps him out. Sticky, Slash


Gunmax didn't feel like doing paperwork. He was tired and whiny, and he wanted to just wash off and recharge. The snow and salt on the roads was a pain, and he had flecks all over him. Grit in his armor seams ground to powder as he moved, and it itched terribly. Irritated, he headed towards the wash racks, grabbing a can of antifreeze on the way. Toudou had added it to their fuel intake during the winter months, and Gunmax had to agree that it didn't taste half bad. It was sticky and sweet, and they didn't require much of it. Taking a few gulps, the biker mech trudged into the showers, setting the bottle of blue liquid aside on the central platform before hopping up and turning the main sprinkler on. He flashed his optics and had a seat, too exhausted to stand and scrub the spots off—he hoped that the hot water would rinse them away.

Gunmax hunched over as the water hit his backplates. Soon, his optics offlined as the tapping of drops on his visor lulled him into a dozing recharge. He was vaguely aware of salt shifting in his chest plates, the sound of footsteps, servos rubbing and squeezing at his shoulders—

Oh.

Gunmax' helm snapped up, his previously relaxed demeanor tense at the intrusion. He turned to look over his shoulder and upon recognizing the red hand, rolled his neck and went back to relaxing. Just Duke, kneeling behind him. Not Power Joe with a bucket of ice. "Hey **baby**, can I help you with something?" Gunmax drawled, offlining his optics.

Duke rolled his optics, servos stilling. "No, but you could certainly use my help," he chided, moving to grab a large sponge from the racks. "Your 'shower' methods are highly inadequate. The residue will just collect in your seams if you aren't using solvent." He squeezed a bottle of cleanser onto the sponge, lathering it on his palm before returning to the seated mech. He tipped Gunmax's visor up, meeting his typical smirk with a quirked brow. "Smug yankee."

"I have a reason to be smug," Gunmax snickered, moving back on the platform and giving Duke enough room to kneel between his legs. "You don't exactly half-ass things."

Duke put a red finger in Gunmax's lips, silencing him. "Ah-ah-ah, save that vulgar speech for a little later, when you lose control."

"That wasn't even that ba—ah!" The green mech was cut off, Duke leaning in. The noblebot ran the sponge over Gunmax's thighs, his free servo pinching between hip seams. Duke's mouth busily licked and sucked at Gunmax's chest plate, catching the salt being removed by the water spraying from above. His glossae lapped at broad plates and wriggled into armor gaps, encouraged by Gunmax's hips twitching. Duke slowly nudged the other mech to lie flat, and he loomed over him, the water hitting his backplates. Using one arm for balance, he continued to rub the sponge against Gunmax's frame. The circular motions were teasing, moving from his thighs to his abdomen, and Gunmax smirked, nipping at Duke's bumper as the ambulance sucked the tip of his antennae.

"You're not nearly as vocal as usual."

Gunmax smirked as Duke sat back, water sliding down the dark windshield and onto green plating. "We haven't gotten to the best part, have we?"

"_Please_. Don't you understand the art of foreplay?" Duke snorted. "I could sit here all day and lick the salt off of y—"

"**Save it**," Gunmax laughed, folding his arms behind his head. "You're just being a tease when I'm already revved up."

The British bot rolled his eyes, but moved to press his mouth against Gunmax's frame, suds washed away. He trailed kisses along the frontal plating, adjusting himself so that his helm rested above Gunmax's panel. The metal plane was hot, and Duke nibbled the top. He was put off when Gunmax didn't release his locks, and betrayed a puzzled look. "…Well?"

"Mmmm… wanna hear you talk to me a little first" was the taunting reply. "And you can't do that when you've got a cord stuffed in your mouth, know what I mean?"

Huffing, Duke made himself comfortable, lying on his front and propped on his elbows. "Open anyway. I need some inspiration."

That was intriguing. Gunmax did as requested, cord pressurizing immediately. Watching, he gasped as Duke ran the sponge along the length of him, thumbing the top of the interface. The white mech waited until the foam had disappeared again before rubbing more, solvent foaming as he worked. Gunmax couldn't help himself and emitted a short, soft whine.

Duke started to talk, nuzzling the stiff cord. "I want to see you squirm and moan when I lick the tip of your thick cable. I want to hear my name from your vocalizer when I take the length in my mouth, **suck you hard**." He paused, amused by the flash behind Gunmax's visor. "Maybe I won't be able to keep you in my mouth, **maybe you'll slip out**…"

"A-lright, alright-nngh," Gunmax moaned, feeling his cord straining at the rough pressure of Duke's strokes. "Make good on your words, **baby**."

Gunmax hadn't finished the sentence before Duke's glossae was swirling around the head of his cord, pressing itself groves. He bobbed his head about halfway along the cord a few times, before taking the whole in his mouth. One optic was visible from the rim of his helm, the water dripping from the rim. Duke watched as Gunmax arched his back, the green hips jerking in shallow thrusts. Purring around the cord, Duke moved his hand to toy with the other's midriff, fingers joining the water in setting off tactile sensors.

Gunmax was coming undone after a few moments, charges building up in his circuits. He moaned shamelessly, trying to escape the hand touching him and get closer to the mouth taking him in. Every time the head of his cord hit the back of Duke's mouth, the white bot's intakes would shudder around him; this caused Gunmax to buck harder.

With his excitement, Gunmax's volume increased, and Duke was too distracted with causing more of those sounds to notice his warnings.

"**Oh my god, baby**!" he heard Gunmax groan, and before Duke could stop, lubricant was shooting into his intakes. He wasn't entirely prepared and the fluid made a gear slide too soon in his voice box; Duke choked and pulled away, vaguely aware of a splatter of lubricant hitting his shoulder.

Gunmax remained shuddering under the water, plating over-sensitized and fans practically singing on high. His optic were offlined under his visor. Slowly he sat up, grinning a tad sheepishly at Duke. The other mech was swallowing some antifreeze to clear his intakes. "Was that all me? **My bad**," Gunmax apologized, rubbing the back of his helm. "At least your mouth is good at—"

"Don't start," Duke growled, placing the empty bottle to the side and pulling himself up to kiss Gunmax powerfully. He pulled back, releasing his own panel to the biker. "Yours needs to be put to use."

"Whatever you say, **baby**."


End file.
